


I Hate Everything About You

by lost_in_madworld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Crushes, Depression, Eventual Romance, Eventual mutual love, Hurt/Comfort, I won't make Ginny a bitch I promise, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, No character bashing, Probably sex at some point, Romance, Self-Harm, Unrequited Love, Very small amount of Hinny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_in_madworld/pseuds/lost_in_madworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was disgusted with himself, utterly disgusted, how could he have been so….blind? So completely idiotic? He was so …so blinded with the fear that he allowed himself to hurt all those people. The war is over and Draco has returned to Hogwarts to make up his 7th year. Drarry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a Harry Potter fic :3 If you like it let me know and I'll continue it. xx Enjoy. c:

Cold.

It was so cold.

His heart was heavy with guilt as he stood watching students run past him.

He wanted to run. 

He wanted to run far, far away and never stop.

Then maybe it would be easier.

He thought that maybe if he ran from his problems and his fears then maybe they would go away, but he was wrong. 

He wished that he had someone to vent to, someone to tell all of these…feelings and thoughts that were trapped inside of his mind. 

But he had no one to talk to.

Everyone hated him.

And he knew it, he accepted it, and he knew it would never change. He had no one to blame but himself for it. All he had ever been was an arrogant arsehole, a perfect pureblood, too good for anyone else. He was amazed that he was still alive…after everything he had done and said it was a wonder that no one had taken the opportunity to kill him off.

But no, he was still here much to his own displeasure. So many people had died…had given their lives for all the right reasons and here he was the boy he had made all the wrong choices. He didn’t deserve to live, he didn’t deserve to wake everyday while all of these families had to wake and realize that all their loved ones had left them.

He was disgusted with himself, utterly disgusted, how could he have been so….blind? So completely idiotic? He was so afraid….so…so blinded with the fear that he allowed himself to hurt all those people. He should have known better, but instead he let it happen, he let those people die and he did nothing to stop it.

So he fell deep into depression, filled with self-hatred and guilt he joined the others in taunting him and treating him as if he were nothing but worthless garbage. He deserved it; he deserved every kind of pain in the world.

His parents were worried about him. Before the war they had never noticed, they had never seen the pressure he was under; they never noticed that they were slowly losing their son. They always saw him as strong and full of life, but now when he came home he was so empty….so lost, as if he weren’t even there. His mother had tried to talk to him, his father as distant as he always had been had even tried, but there was no use.

Draco wanted to die.

It wasn’t as if the ex-death eater had any reason to want to keep living. He had no friends, his parents weren’t much help, and the people at school….well if Draco were to die he was sure they would have a celebration.  
He knew it was a horrible idea to return to school to make up his 7th year, most other Slytherins in his year didn’t want to return either. Some having been on the other side during the war had not gone unnoticed, even those who fought on Potter’s side were bullied horribly.

And Draco felt as if that were his fault.

Maybe if in the beginning if he hadn’t been such a prick, maybe if he disobeyed his parents and fought with Potter and the goddamn Golden Trio instead of being too fucking scared to fight against Voldemort.

But he was too scared.

He made the wrong choices and because of it he must be punished.

He deserves it.

He was two months into his 8th year at Hogwarts and it was complete hell. As if he didn’t have enough guilt already these people would make it worse. He knew he deserved all of this but the pain…it was so unbearable.

He was so close to the edge it was terrifying.

He would lock himself in the bathroom stalls at night and take a razor to his wrist to make him forget. To make him feel, to make the thoughts go away for a little while just to make it more bearable to live with the reminders of his past.

Every day the Weasel would push him into a wall and call him a traitor. Every day a Gryffindor would send hexes at his head and call him disgusting. Every time Granger would see the act she would look the other way and pretend as if she hadn’t seen him.

He thought that they were supposed to be saviors.

But then he remembered he didn’t deserve to be saved.

He wouldn’t fight it when they would hurt him.

He wouldn’t say anything when they called him horrible, awful things and blamed him for all the pain in the world.

His past would haunt him forever, there was no denying it and there was definitely no running from it. He had to live with the loneliness, the coldness, and the overwhelming guilt. Until one day he would finally be granted the gift of death and he would finally be released from this curse.

But that day would have to wait, because apparently the world still wanted him to suffer for all of these mistakes.  
So he just had to accept that.

He stood from the bench he had been sitting on, for he had been putting off going to the Great Hall as long as he could, and headed towards the castle.  
   
Inside the great hall Harry sat conflicted between his close friends. Ron droned on about Qudditch while Hermione sat with her nose buried in a book. Ginny sat next to him listening closely to her brother, her hand draped over Harry’s. He sighed and looked up as he noticed a certain Slytherin entering the Great Hall.

There had been something completely off about Malfoy ever since he came back to Hogwarts. All he ever did was spend time on his own and barely spoke at all. Whenever anyone would say something crude and hurtful to the blond he wouldn’t say a word. What had happened to Harry’s arch nemesis? He almost felt himself feeling bad for him.

Almost.

“Have you noticed anything…off about Malfoy lately?” Harry said suddenly, finding the need to voice his definitely-not-concern.

“Not any more than usual” Said Ginny looking up at her boyfriend “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know he just seems….different” He sighed, “He just used to be…he used to have some life in him and now he just seems so sad…and empty.”

“Don’t tell me you care about that traitor” Ron piped up sending a glare over to Draco, “He deserves all the pain he’s received.”

“I don’t think he’s a traitor” Harry said, sounding almost upset about the accusation, “He just….he didn’t have a choice. I think it’s sick what people are doing to him. It’s not right, no matter what anyone does in the past, they don’t deserve that kind of treatment, no one does.”

“Whatever you say, mate” Ron said rolling his eyes, “I still think he deserves it.” Harry sighed at his friend, sure Draco had always been a prat but he certainly didn’t deserve to be reminded of every mistake…every….painful memory every day of his life.

But then he remembered that he knew everything that was happening to Draco and still he didn’t say a thing. He never really had witnessed a lot of it happening, just a lot of crude language and hurtful comments but he had heard of things that were happening.

But still.

It made him just as bad as the people that were hurting him.

But really what could he do?

And besides, he shouldn’t be thinking about this anyway, Draco had always been nothing but an arse to him, he definitely didn’t deserve his pity.

But when he watched the blond leave the hall and saw two large 7th year Gryffindors follow him he couldn’t help but follow too. 

Draco had tried to sit down and eat something, for he had been starving himself for a couple days, too afraid to take a step into the Great Hall out of fear that someone may hurt him again but it had become too much to handle.

The death glares that had been sent his way…the judgmental glances were driving him insane with guilt and pain. Maybe he could come back later and beg one of the house elves to pity him and give him something to eat.

He thought that maybe going outside and getting some fresh air and watching the sunset would clear his mind but he had been wrong.

It wasn’t as if he expected people to follow him but as they cornered him into a wall and towered over him it stopped mattering to him.

Any pain that may be inflicted upon him he deserved. So as they got closer and grabbed his shirt and shoved him hard against the wall he didn’t struggle because he had nothing left in him to fight. All ambitions and all goals were gone. There was nothing.

“You disgust me, death eater” One of them whispered into his ear.

“I disgust myself too” He said so quietly that neither of them heard. The one holding him against the wall raised his fist and was just about to swing when-

“Stop!” Someone screamed running up to his attackers, “Let him go!” And they did. They let him go and Draco fell to the ground, pulling his legs up to his chest. Draco wondered who would ever think to stop people from hurting him. After all everyone in this goddamn school seemed to want him dead and it must be someone goddamn important for them to actually listen.

But when his attackers finally moved out of the way his questions had been answered.

His eyes fell upon the familiar mop of black hair and bright emerald eyes and his heart stopped. Harry Potter. The boy who lived. He stood there eye level with his attackers and Draco wondered when he had gotten so tall. His body had filled out and he had to admit he looked rather fit.

But his looks shouldn’t really matter right now. What mattered right now was the fact that he had saved Draco from getting hurt.

Why would he do something like that?

Potter continued to ramble on about how sick this made him and how they should be disgusted with themselves. Soon after they left and he watched Potter as he sighed and ran a hand through his messy raven hair.

Then his striking eyes fell upon Draco’s trembling form and his eyes softened.

He walked over to where Draco was sitting and knelt down to talk to him.

“Are you okay?” He asked him.

Draco didn’t say a word.

“I’m really sorry…about those guys” He sighed again “I’m sorry about a lot of things. You really don’t deserve that shit.”

This just seemed to make Draco angry.

“Of course I deserve it” He said.

“What?” Potter said, confused.

“I deserve it, all of it, don’t pretend like you think I don’t” Draco wanted to sound stronger, but his voice was shaky and he knew he came off as terrified. 

“Draco…you don’t deserve this” Potter sounded almost concerned, “Nobody deserves to be hurt.”

“Well I do” He tried to get up but he was shaking too much to stand on his own, so much to his displeasure (and some delight not like he would admit it) Potter helped him stand, “I don’t know why you stopped them, Potter, but I don’t need your pity.”

And with that, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco felt like a fucking idiot.

A goddamn helpless idiot.

A goddamn waste of space, weak, insufferable, piece of shit.

Of course Potter the mighty savior had to step in and save him like the goddamn Gryffindor prick he was. Not like Draco really had any rights to complain about Potter, he had saved his arse so many times, he really did owe him his life.

But that didn’t stop him from the conflicting emotions invading his mind while he lied in his bed trying to fall asleep. He was so ashamed at himself for letting Potter step in like that, making him appear so weak and acting so vulnerable around the stupid prat. So angry at Potter for not letting him just fight his own battles.

And he was so goddamn confused at the fluttering in his stomach every time he thought about Potter actually caring about him.

But really that was virtually impossible, he had accepted the fact that no one cared about him a long time ago. He had friends in the past but…they really weren’t friends in his mind. Not ones people would mainly think of, he never really had a friend to confide in or enjoyed himself around or just…one to be himself around  
.   
He mainly found someone to spend his time with, like most people in Slytherin, someone to numb the harsh pains of loneliness and just turn it into a dull sting, only thinking about it when there was nothing there to distract you. He had a feeling that this should bother him, the way that things were, but it didn’t. None of it mattered because this is what the world was and it was either to accept it or spend all your time just pissing and moaning about how unfair life is.

He may have been a lonely, weak, no-friends, worthless piece of shit but that didn’t mean he would accept someone else’s pity. He could handle himself just fine, it didn’t matter that he was hopelessly depressed and had such a fierce wish to die it still did not mean that he wanted to be someone’s charity case.

He had cast this life upon himself and he was very persistent in his wishes to live with the backlash of his choices. He did not believe in a wish to be saved or to be lifted from this burden, all he wished for was the pleasant touch of death to overtake him  
.  
He would criticize himself for appearing so pathetic and cynical but there was no longer any use for it. He only ever felt so drained and faint. Never having energy to do anything he found himself sleeping through most days, skipping classes and ignoring the rest of the world whenever he found the opportunity. He would let sleep overtake him at any given moment, it being the only thing close enough to death, giving him the opportunity to drift away from the rest of the world and escape into blissful darkness.

Plus it was a lot more appealing than being publicly ridiculed by everyone, wasting his time in classes while trying to avoid any sort of trigger reminding him of his past, or at the great hall not eating. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to spend time around other people anyway. All people did was hurt you, he learned that the hard way. Anyone that was ever supposed to give a flying fuck about him had turned around and stabbed him in his back. Not as if he had really given his trust to anyone, especially his parents, but he thought deep down they were supposed to care for their child.

Draco would never admit to caring about someone else or even god forbid loving someone else. But he thought it was safe it admit that every child at one point believed and should believe that their parents love them unconditionally and care for them despite it all.

Not too long ago Draco might have allowed himself to believe that…that his parents wanted what was best and were only looking out for his best interest. But he also knew that if he were disobey his parents beliefs it was highly likely that he would have been murdered.

He followed his parents blindly, never questioning it as they chose to follow a nose less lunatic. Draco never allowed himself an opinion on his matters, father always knew best. And it was a dream to be just like his father, strong and kept together, and never showing any feeling. But then it all fell down and the façade dropped and he saw who his father was.

He was ruthless and cruel, but most of all he was a coward. So cowardly he put his own family in danger of being murdered because he was too afraid to speak up. He knew what he was doing, he knew what he was getting them all into and still he went on with it. Draco resented his father, despised him, he just couldn’t believe that after all these years….after knowing all of this…he could still-…

Draco had realized that he was exactly like his father. He cast people down due to differences, he treated people like absolute shit because he saw himself as better, he acted out of fear, and once he realized what he was doing it was too late.

He had become his father.

And then he hated himself.

He did not become a strong, independent, put together man, but became a pathetic, weak, self-loathing arsehole instead. He should have known better, who should have questioned it, he should have ran and fought and been less of a dense prat. He. Should. Have Known.

Because of this he knew what had to be done. He could not let them see him cry. Or fall. Or be rescued. He would accept this fate; he would do it because this was his fault. He would not appear weak or pathetic. He had lost so much and he knew that it would not stop until he had lost anything.

But he would be dammed if he let them watch him fall. Watch him grovel and cry. He did not need anyone’s help. He did not need pity. He would live with this until his dying day and he would do it without anyone standing their holding his hand. He hadn’t really learned much that was very useful around his parents, but he did learn something.

Never let the enemy see you cry, don’t let them see your weakness, because if they do it will destroy everything and they will see and they will never forget. They can’t know that they hurt him, he must conceal it, he must not allow himself to feel, because if he does it will never stop.

If he allows just one moment of weakness there will be no way to stop it.

He can’t…He can’t let go. 

He just.

He just needs some sleep.

Draco awoke the next morning feeling groggy and disoriented. He was up half the night rethinking his run in with Potter, overthinking and overanalyzing just as he always does. He had always hated himself for being like that, making it harder for him to just…forget about things in the past and move on.

He did not want to get up. He did not want to go to the Great Hall. And he did not want to go to class. Mcgonagall had warned him that if he continued to skip his classes that she would be forced to expel him. He didn’t really see the point in even returning to Hogwarts if he wasn’t going to attend his classes. He was so baffled at how he thought it was a good idea to come back here in the first place and wondered whose idea it was in the first place.

Oh right.

His mother’s.

She had pulled him aside, and told him that he shouldn’t let the events of the war define his life. He could do so much with his life and still follow his dreams of becoming a healer. Such a stupid dream, an ex-death eater, helping people? His mother had been the only person he had ever told that to and he was beginning to regret it. Even though he would never be able to admit it his mother meant the world to him and he wouldn’t want to disappoint her anymore so here he was.

He couldn’t believe he had allowed himself to be talked into coming back here.

But there really wasn’t much he could do about it now.

So he rolled out of his bed and dressed quickly, one of the small perks of coming make to make up his 7th year was that he got a room to himself, most other Slytherins in his year were too afraid to come back.

At least maybe people saw him as a little less weak having come back despite everything.

But then he remembered that life doesn’t work like that.

His body collapsed in a sigh and sagged slightly as he walked reluctantly towards the Great Hall. He knew that this was an awful idea after yesterday. He was like a piece of meat walking into the lion’s den. But it wasn’t as if there was any other choice, he saw no way getting through this without someone getting hurt so he might as well get it over with, no point it delaying it.

He walked straight into the Great Hall, bags under his eyes, hair in diary, and clothing wrinkled and out of sorts. Bruises were painted across his pale skin under his robes causing him to wince slightly every time he took a step. A year ago he would have rather died than for people to see him like this but that was then and this is now. This had become the norm.

Despite his pain he kept his head held high, his facial expression blank, and he continued to walk towards the Slytherin table, ignoring the eyes that were watching him. He sat down and tried to fight the urge to scream out as he accidently bumped a rather large bruise on his leg.

Just breath through it, he told himself, don’t let them see, don’t let them know.

He thought that maybe it would have been easier to go straight to his first class but that would mean he would have to walk through the castle alone and that would just make him an easier target. It was easier to walk in a large group of people, making it harder to single him out.

He sighed staring blankly at the food in front of him, the mere sight of it making him want to throw up all over the table. He made a sound of relief when he realized that it was time to go to class so he no longer had to be around the disgusting aroma of food. He stood from the table and felt several people bumping into him as they hurried to class and he sucked in a breath, ignoring the pain.

He had almost made it successfully out of the Great Hall with minimal difficultly, but of course, of fucking course, fate just can’t give him a break.

“Malfoy!” The last voice he ever wanted to hear called out to him, “Malfoy, wait!” Draco tried to ignore him, he tried to keep making his way to class, but the goddamn prat was persistent. He grabbed his arm and Draco hissed under his breath. He spun around quickly and glared up into concerned emerald eyes.

“What?!” He hissed through clenched teeth, “What do you want, Potter?”

“I was…I just wanted to…” He sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his messy black hair, “I…are you okay?” Draco’s heart leapt slightly at the sight before him…Potter looked kind of cute when he was frustrated…

Wait, what?

Potter was not cute. He was annoying and stupid and always stuck his nose in his business and always had to jump in when it was the last thing Draco needed. And he always had to be so sweet and helpful and make everyone fall in love with-

No.

No, no, he felt nothing for, Potter, how could he be in love with him? That was so stupid he could almost laugh. And he should probably say something because Potter was looking at him as if he were some sort of lunatic.

“I…” He forgot what they were talking about for a moment, but then slowly started to remember and his glare returned, “Yes I am fine! Now can you…can I…ugh just leave me alone.”

Potter raised an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t look fine” Potter stared at him intently for a moment, “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened last night…I should have said something to stop it earlier.” Draco shot another glare at Potter. He was almost too pissed off to speak.

“I…” He tried to speak but his voice caught in his throat, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve wanted to punch you in the face this badly since before the war.”

“What?” He asked, confused.

“This isn’t about you or what you could have done to stop everything” Draco hissed at him, “I don’t need your fucking pity! I don’t need you to save me! I don’t need to be saved again by the almighty Harry Potter! You can’t help everyone, Potter! And sometimes you need to accept that some of us don’t want to be saved!” He practically was yelling at him near the end of it, so angry he turned back around, suddenly too tired and pissed to deal with school. He didn’t care if he got expelled anymore this wasn’t worth it.

But Potter wasn’t letting up, he ran after him setting a hand on his shoulder and spinning him around.

“Is it wrong to want to help people?” He asked, irritated.

“It is when you’re trying to help the wrong person” Draco shot back.

“And what’s so bad about wanting to help you?”

“It’s not help, it’s pity” He said simply.

“And how can you be so sure about that?”

“We’ve hated each other for over six years. We’ve never had anything in common, you never wanted to be my friend, it was my life goal to make your life a living hell. My parents worked for the man that killed your parents. And we can barely stand each other. This is the longest amount of time we’ve talked to each other for the entire time we’ve known each other. Do you really expect me to believe this is anything but pity?” Draco took a breath.

“I can handle myself, I know what I’m doing, I don’t need any goddamn help from the Golden Boy.”

He turned back around content with going back to his room and curling back into his bed.

“Now just leave me alone.”


End file.
